


Giving Up is Giving In Pt 3

by Andrew (Skomie)



Series: Giving Up is Giving In [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 07, Wordcount: Over 10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skomie/pseuds/Andrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How to tell your brother you're having totally not weird sex with an angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giving Up is Giving In Pt 3

   Sam's been pacing the room, probably has since the delightful wake up call they'd received this morning. Three rings, twelves texts, and 90 minutes later Dean still cringes when the door swings open before he can even get his hand on the knob. There may as well be a banner above the door proclaiming,  _This Isn't Going to Go Well!_  but it'd be a bit redundant what with the serious bitchface welcoming him home sweet home. There's no greeting, just Sam refusing to so much as blink. Rather go blind than let Dean miss a second of his facial rendition of what would otherwise be a lengthy lecture on just how royally pissed off he is.  
  
    You can actually hear the moment Sam sees the corner of tan trench coat peeking out from behind his brother. Muscles audibly relaxing into a position that doesn't scream,  _'I'm going to beat you with a brick.'_  
  
    "Cas? Castiel?"  
  
    Cas' eyes flicker back and forth between the brothers, unsure if he's actually meant to be a part of this conversation, obviously perfectly content not to be. "Hello Sam," he tries out, not committing to anything.  
  
    "Why didn't you just tell me you were going to get him?" And then, "Wait. Since when does he want to be here?"  
  
    "It's complicated," which shouldn't count as sidestepping because it's probably more honest than Dean's best attempt at an explanation.  
  
    Sam's expression is an immovable force, one that says he's willing to push yet hopeful that Dean will break on his own. Either way, Dean's not getting over or around and definitely not barreling through. The only way to get past Sam in his present state is to placate him.  
  
    Dean's going to say something. He is, really. Right after he figures out what. Apparently Sam doesn't have that kind of time on his hands and with the way the world is perpetually ending none of them probably do.  
  
    "It's complicated? You take off in the middle of the night, disappear for three days, wander back into town with a self-proclaimed retired angel in tow and you really think  _'It's complicated'_  begins to cover it?"  
  
    "Like ant colonies," Cas abruptly injects. Two set of eyes suddenly on him. "Complicated but amazingly simple. From the outside the nest it may look like chaos but it's a very organized caste system they have down there. Different jobs given to specialized groups. Reproduction, gathering, protection. It isn't really all that complex if you know what you're looking at."  
  
    "What is he talking about?"  
  
    For a split second Dean is crossing his mental fingers that Cas will answer for him. Tell Sam that he's trying to explain that while him and Dean are, you know, having butt sex it's not actually weird. But Cas doesn't. He stares back at him instead,  _'I tried, your move.'_  
  
    "At the moment? Ant colonies," shrugging. Adding, "You get used to it. I have actually learned a  _lot_  on the drive back."  
  
    "Dean," Sam warns. At his best Sam's patience is tissue paper thin. Dean doesn't exactly need it spelled out that today isn't even plotted in the positive quadrant.  
  
    Facing the angel he licks his lips, tries to retain a small smiles while says, "Why don't you go hang out in the car for a bit. Recite Genesis or something. Backwards. In Swahili. Whatever will take you about a half hour."  
  
    There's a brief moment where Dean can see the flash of confusion and he waits for the inevitable,  _'I speak all of humanity's languages fluently, why should any particular one blah blahdiddy blah,'_  but Cas simply nods and takes the offered keys. The sight of Cas walking away instead of poofing out is unsettling something in Dean too far down to examine.  
  
    "So?" Sam presses when the angel is barely out of earshot.  
  
    It's a clear message,  _'This conversation is not negotiable '_  and for once Dean's not even arguing. There's about 29 miles of dialogue to travel here and no logical starting point.  
  
    "You can't tell me our odds aren't better with him on our side. Sure, he's a little... off. But it's him in there, Sam. It's still our Cas."  
  
    "Cas that swallowed Purgatory," as if Dean may have forgotten.  
  
    He's about to say,  _'One time!'_  before realizing how ridiculous it'd sound. His universe has finally reach a level of bizarre that's outside the sphere of his brain function.  
  
    "He's saved our asses how many times? Took on your little," gesturing wildly at Sam's head, "psychosis. He fucked up but it's Cas."  
  
    Cas that didn't give up on him in Hell. That faced down an arch angel in Chuck's kitchen. That trusted Dean enough to look past what he always thought was true. This is Cas who Dean isn't leaving behind.  
  
    "You think this is about forgiving him? I have. I did the second he asked for help. I'm not that hypocritical, Dean. I've been in his shoes. I know what it's like being that off base while doing the best you can. This isn't about that, I'm glad he's batting for the team again, I am. If he's ready to. I just don't know that he is."  
  
    "He's fine," he tells himself this as much as Sam. He's fine. He has to be. Cas is going to be okay.  
  
    "A week ago he couldn't even be in a room with two people arguing. Suddenly he's ready to pick up the sword again? I get that you have abandonment issues but you don't know what he took on," he's staring at Dean, looking for the missing piece. "What did you say to him?"  
  
    "You're acting like I beat the guy over the head and dragged him here. I didn't have to say anything. He wants to fix his mistake, okay? He thought he was doing the right thing last time around and here we are. He convinced himself that he's only going to make things worse." The lines around Sam's face were softening with understanding. "So he doesn't trust himself and he's scared shitless but that doesn't mean he's a coward. He just needed help getting back on the horse."  
  
    Sam's expression had all but melted from the way he gets it. Dean breaking the first seal - Sam the last one, they've both felt the aftershocks of the planet nearly shattering in their hands. His brother is practically in Care Bear mode, nodding sympathetically. Dean knows he's ready to group hug or start a communal Trust Journal or whatever the hell it is Sam thinks about when he jerks off. He could park it here and bury the rest.  
  
    But he knows he needs to tell him now. It'll fester and blow up in their faces if he doesn't, secrets between them always have. It's not a matter of if but when and if he's ever going to learn from the past it needs to start now.  
  
     _'Just slip it in,'_  he reasons.  _'Like ripping off a band-aid. Just 1... 2...'_  
  
    "We're also fucking," and maybe he ripped a little too violently.  
    
    Sam goes still instantly, right down to the individual molecules that make up his gigantisaur frame. He's full on mannequin and for a second Dean think he may have actually killed the guy. He's contemplating ditching the usual hunter funeral just so Sam's headstone can read, "DEATH BY SACRILEGE," when his brother comes out of shock.  
  
    "You're  _what?_ "  
  
     Dean can't even be pissed at Sam for making him say it twice. If there's anything in the history of words leaving mouths that deserves to be clarified it has got to be this.  
  
    "It's not what you think," and then quickly, before Sam can start in on him, "Okay it's almost definitely what you think just not as bad as you're probably making it." Which is hysterical. Dean's boning a rogue angel that he essentially kidnapped from a psyche ward but, don't worry Sam, it could be worse.  
  
    "I think you're dicking around with a mentally unstable fallen angel and acting like it's all some big punchline." Exactly.  
  
    "He's not," with no end of the sentence in range. Wasn't what? A little coocoo for Coco Puffs? Of course he was, they all were. Wouldn't trust the guy if he'd been through all this and not lost it a little. "We're not dicking around. It's-"  
  
    "Don't you dare say 'complicated'."  
  
    "But it is!" Sam's eyebrows remaining stubbornly furled. " _It is._ "  
  
    "Are you even capable of thinking with your brain anymore?" The answer is no, of course. Or rather that he does his very best not to, at least. Brain getting him absolutely nowhere but here time and time again. "I'm serious Dean."  
  
    "Listen, Sam. Me and Cas? We're not nothing, alright? I'm not saying it's in the same hemisphere as normal but when has anything in our lives ever been?" He swallows, reminds his body to breathe. "This didn't just suddenly happen. It's been a long time coming."  
  
    Sam's staring right of him at a patch of faded wallpaper where the sun has blasted the vibrancy away. Dean can hear the cogs turning inside of his brother from across the room, concern blowing off of him like a current.  
  
    "I'm trying here," he says calmly, his stupid puppy eyes sliding over to meet Dean's. He is trying. Trying to understand a component of Dean that he himself has tried not to look at too closely. Sam's trying to save his friend and brother at the same time, from each other, without knowing who needs the protection more.  
  
    Dean remembers the picture they took at Bobby's before Carthage. His second father with reality in his eyes, Ellen's smile full of sadness, Jo too young and beautiful, Cas with his head held high like the soldier he never stopped being. A family photo made of memories. Dean remembers Sam's face when he dredged the coat from the water, fingers clenching the tan material, the feeling of being shredded from the inside out. Another face etched out. The three of them is all they've got left and Dean's track record speaks for itself.  
  
    Suddenly, he's talking.  
  
    "I lost him. I should have tried harder to reach through everything that was going on, forced him to hear me. Hell, you tried harder than I did. Him doing what he did... I didn't want to be anything other than angry." It makes less sense the more he thinks about it. The path they all went down, the things he managed to take for granted. Forgetting that even angels aren't forever. "Then he was gone and I had to stare at that damn trench coat for months knowing that I never told him. What he was to me. Any of it," he swallows hard. His throat may as well be burning, words getting stuck in it. "I never even thanked him."  
  
    Even when Cas was literally falling apart in front of Dean's eyes, between him and the gateway to Purgatory, saying goodbye and full of regrets - he couldn't. Didn't realize he wanted to until the option was removed. Dean Winchester, stuck reading yesterday's news.  
    
    "That's why you stayed behind. At the warehouse, when he told us they were still in there with him," he doesn't ask. Sam's found the string that'll unravel the whole sweater.  
  
    Dean doesn't nod but the way his eyes drop as he blinks, air filling his lungs a little too full as he inhales, is confirmation. He's itching for Sam to do something, anything. He's pretty sure there isn't anything that qualifies as an overreaction to your supposedly straight brother professing his love for a dick-bearing angel. The silence only spans a couple of heart beats but Dean's squirming. Let Sam laugh at him, call him a moron. Fuck, clock him one. Anything to wrap this up.  
  
    "So basically," Sam's choosing his words wisely and that's no small favor, "you're in a monogamous relationship with someone who actually gets you?"  
  
    "Conversation over."  
  
    "You can say it Dean,  _life partners_."  
  
    "I will actually kill you."  
  
      Sam laughs like happiness, head thrown back and mouth gaping, and it might be the best thing Dean's ever heard.  
  
    "Wait, wait," he pushes the words out despite lack of breath. "What about Sodom and Gomorrah and all that?"  
  
    "You humans translate everything so literally. Really, there was a reason I put my lot in with the neanderthals," Cas interjects, appearing a couple feet away.  
  
     _'_ _My boyfriend just teleported into the motel room and is now discussing biblical text with my brother,'_  Dean thinks,  _'This isn't even the strangest thing that happened this week.'_  He takes a moment to panic about being sent back in time and having to explain this to 2006 Dean. The poor bastard.  
  
    "Thanks for clearing that up," Dean says before Sam can make this worse. "After we save the world and get our asses off the radar I'm sure I'd have found the time to be very worried about this."  
  
    "I didn't know whether I should progress onto Exodus or continue backwards into Revelations. You were unspecific," and the guy is staring at the floor, fidgeting to boot.  
  
    "No, Cas. Stay," Sam urges. "I'm glad you're here. Really glad. It wasn't the same without you."  
  
    "I understand if you-"  
      
    "Hey," Sam shifting his vocal pitch into Skittish Colt gear. Dean watches the way Cas' eyes raise slowly, fighting him every inch of the way. "We're good. Seriously. You have no idea how big of a mess this one has been," jerking his thumb in Dean's direction. "The pouting alone."  
  
    The fact that Dean actually scoffs isn't exactly a point in his favor. "What're you talking about? I barely even noticed he wasn't here. I went and got his ass so you'd shut up about it."  
  
    Cas and Sam share a  _'Isn't he adorable?'_  look which doesn't exactly improve Dean's facial expression.  
  
    "This isn't going to be easy, is it?" The angel asks, subject open to interpretation.  
  
    The mood halts, shifts, because no it's not. Dean tries to think of anything that's ever going to be easy again. They've been bailing out a sinking ship so long now that even the damn buckets have worn holes in them. Not to mention no one's exactly yelling out, 'Land Ho!' yet. For all Dean knows the Earth's gone all Water World and they're just rowing to nowhere. No way in hell he's drinking recycled pee.  
  
    Sam moves, emotions pouring out of his expression. There's pain and regret but a Paula Dean serving of hope in there too. "Welcome to the Family, Cas."  
  


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  
  
    Dean and Cas had slept fully clothed, barely allowed under the blankets.  _'Hands where I can see them!'_  Sam had warned. Cas, obviously lacking in his understanding of where his loyalty should lie, had only shot Dean a look when he'd copped a feel simply to spite his brother.  _'Prudes.'_  
  
    He tries not to worry when he wakes up in an empty bed, making himself breathe in and out as his pulse threatens to jump. It's all for nothing, fully giving into the panic when he sits up and finds Sam and Cas hunched over the barely big enough for two table, talking quietly.  
  
    It's another day in a World falling apart. Just him and Sam and his angel in a, no doubt, STD infested motel.  
  
    "Mornin' Sunshines," he announces, two heads snapping in his direction. "What'd I miss?"  
  
    It's not perfect. Some days it doesn't even hit good.  
  
    "Sam is trying to explain to me why two adults males engaged in a sexual relationship are called 'boyfriends'."  
  
    But he'll take it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thhhaaaaat's all folks. For now anyways.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
